Call and
Covenant: 2nd Sunday in Epiphany, Year B
1 Samuel 3:1-20; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; 1
Corinthians 6:12-20; John 1:43-51
The New Testament readings for this 2nd Sunday in the season of
Epiphany reflect the process whereby the early Christian movement
defined itself. But as put together by the Elves, the theme seems to be
divided between the mysteries of prophetic Call (Samuel in the Old
Testament, Philip and Nathaniel in the New) and judgment.
Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is shredded once again. His
impassioned polemic about the essential difference between Christian
community and Roman imperial culture is removed from its powerful
context and reduced to pious self-righteousness about petty sexual
sin. Worse is the subtext of anti-Semitism that lurks behind the
words the writer of John’s Gospel gives to Jesus. When he meets
Nathaniel, John’s Jesus says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there
is no deceit”; and “you will see the heaven opened and the angels of
God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” John’s Gospel
is not history remembered. It is a post-Easter work, drenched in
mysticism, whose purpose likely was to express the mystical meaning of
the Christ – the Anointed One – for early-to-mid-Second Century
followers of The Way. Jesus declares the follower Nathaniel is
not deceitful – unlike Jacob (“Israel”), who cheated his twin brother
out of his inheritance. This Christ whom Nathaniel has recognized
as the Son of God has replaced “Israel” on the ladder that connects
heaven and earth. This sentiment may have been proper for a
Second Century group, finding its way among the political, religious,
and cultural pitfalls at the end of the Roman Empire. It is not
appropriate for post-Christian, 21st Century, global political, social,
and scientific realities.
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not
widespread.” These words invite us into the realm of Saga –
foundational story; defining myth. They also describe our
post-modern world, which rejects the power of myth to inform the
meaning of current conditions. We think that myth belongs inside
books or movies for children. The story of Samuel continues with
the mystical and defining “rule of three.” When Samuel disturbed
Eli’s sleep for the third time, the old priest realized that God must
be speaking to the child. Sure enough, Samuel delivered a message
from God to Eli that confirmed the end of his family as servants of the
temple. Soon “all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel
was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to
appear at Shiloh . . . and the word of Samuel came to all Israel.”
Earlier in the story of Samuel (2:25), old Eli tries to get his
corrupt sons to realize that if they don’t repent and return to God’s
rule, they will be on their own. Eli says, “If one person sins
against another, someone can intercede for the sinner with the Lord;
but if someone sins against the Lord, who can make intercession?”
Christians could of course answer, “Jesus the Christ makes intercession
for us.” But that no longer makes sense to a non-theistic
Christian exile who is a follower, not a worshiper of Jesus. It
makes no sense on several levels – not the least of which is the
absence of integrity. “Cheap grace” spans the compass of sin from
white lies confessed and expiated with three “hail Marys” to prayers
for forgiveness in advance for the killing to be done on the
battlefield.
Who speaks the word of the prophet today? Who has the authority,
and from whence does that authority come? This is the question
for post-modern, myth-deprived people in search of spiritual
integrity. In 1964, folk artists Paul Simon and Art Garfunkle
wrote that “The words of the prophet are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls” that merely echo the sounds of silence. If the
prophet was speaking, no one was listening. In a normal human
reaction to guilt, the words of the prophets are often taken out of
their context and highlighted for repudiation by the forces of normal
civilization, which resent being called to account for injustice. Eli’s
point is valid even in a 21st Century world where Jesus is seriously
dead. We are on our own outside of the rule of God’s
Covenant. The Covenant is for non-violence, justice-compassion,
and peace. It is made not with a personal entity, but with the
interactive web of existence, human and non-human. This Covenant
is perhaps deeper and more demanding than the old one with a God
perceived as outside of ourselves, who eventually decided to rescue us
through substitutionary atonement.
Meanwhile, back in Corinth, is anything the Elves cherry-picked
relevant? On the surface, obviously not. Removed from the
context of Paul’s life and relationship with the pagan/Christian
community in Corinth in the belly of the beast of Roman Empire, Paul’s
demand to glorify God through the body as a temple of the Holy Spirit
makes no sense at all. But a brief quote from In Search of
Paul by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed (p. 283)
may shed some light on 1st Corinthians 6:18-20: “What is
striking, of course, is the rather stunning physicality of that
‘members of Christ’ argument. Christians are not only united in
the Spirit of Christ; they are united in the Body of Christ. And
that bodily unity not only has negative implications for [Roman temple]
prostitution; it has positive implications for all the rest of a
Christian’s bodily life. It also had profound implications for
Paul in Roman chains at Ephesus not just for Christ, but in
Christ.” These are mystical concepts, which cannot be grasped
other than as metaphor, to be lived as metaphor. Not everyone is
able to live the metaphor, as Jesus did – placing his body in the way
of the injustice of Empire. But to the extent that we can, we
speak and act with authority. To “glorify God in your body” has
little to do with sex, and much to do with speaking truth to power,
regardless of the consequences that the body may be subject to.
Of course there are a large number of people in our post-modern global
village that take myths as factual history, and who insist that the
Virgin can be seen in a shadow on a building, or that the return of the 12th Imam is
imminent, or that the survival of the State of Israel is crucial
for the ultimate establishment of the Kingdom of God.
These are the kinds of false prophets who have led us into the
precarious condition in which we now have the ability to destroy the
Planet (in Crossan’s words) atomically, biologically, chemically,
demographically, environmentally, “and we’re only up to ‘e.’”
That false prophets speak from the theology of Empire should be
obvious: Piety, war, and victory are opposite values to
distributive justice-compassion, non-violence, and peace. “Piety”
insists on devotion to particular community norms such as attending
church, posting the Ten Commandments in public places, opposing
abortion while denying birth control, subjecting criminals of all ages
and circumstances to the death penalty, celibacy outside marriage
(defined exclusively as between “a man and a woman”), and “love the
sinner, hate the sin,” which institutionalizes homophobia. “War”
is violence, and violence is any action (spoken or physical, written or
proclaimed) that violates the integrity of the web of co-existence on
Planet Earth. So in addition to government-sanctioned wars,
police brutality, and Catch-22 regulations, violence includes denying
education to women, restricting immigration, predatory and fraudulent
monetary and business practices, systemic injustice such as U.S.
“health care,” ignoring the scientific evidence for global warming,
clear-cutting the rain forests, and mountaintop removal mining
techniques. “Victory” includes not only military and political
hegemony and its accompanying repression, but “victory” is also
“justice” defined as retribution/payback, and domination of everything
perceived to be weaker, smaller, or of less value than the
dominator. Such a theology never leads to peace.
The Lord of the Rings trilogy,
the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table,
Beowulf,
Star Wars are all
block-buster hits, whether of literature or film, premodern or
post-modern. Perhaps the reason is that they speak to something
that responds, even in the sophisticated, jaded, 21st Century.
The ancient Psalm still speaks a truth if we allow ourselves to
encounter the myth: “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where
can I flee from your presence? . . . I come to the end – I am still
with you.” The Psalmist realized that he was both in God and of
God – God is both immanent and transcendent. In post-modern
terms, God is the matrix of life, and we cannot survive outside
it. To be within that matrix is to be aligned with Covenant,
non-violence, justice-compassion and peace. From that place we
speak with authority, as God spoke to Samuel, and “the word of Samuel
came to all Israel.” Wholeness calls us to wholeness, and we
abandon our own self-interest to participate in the work.
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